


He Was a Skater Boy (Almost)

by anotherfandomok



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (aromantic spectrum Jon), Aromantic Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Aromantic Sasha James, Asexual Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Asexual Martin Blackwood, Bisexual Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Canon Asexual Character, First Aid, First Kiss, He/Him and They/Them Pronouns for Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, I included lonelyeyes for the humor of it all, I refer to Jon as a skater boy/adjacent terms here for the Flavor not bc he is a boy lol, Jon Sims is my own personal brand of sex repulsed and mostly kiss repulsed, Jon passes out So Often someone get the archivist some sleep and a healthy meal, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Being a Little Shit, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Gets a Hug, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Has ADHD, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Has a Crush, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Wears a Skirt, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist With a Cane, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist is Bad at Feelings, Kiss-Averse Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, M/M, Martin Blackwood Gives Good Hugs, Martin Blackwood Has a Crush on Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood Takes Care of Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Mentions of blood but nothing graphic, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, POV Multiple, Queerplatonic Sasha James/Tim Stoker, Rated G but there is swearing, Season/Series 01, Sex-Repulsed Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Short Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Skateboarding, Skater Boy Tim Stoker, Swearing, The Magnus Archives (Podcast) as a Workplace Comedy, The Magnus Archives Season 1, Trans Character, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Trans Martin Blackwood, Trans Sasha James, Trans Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Uni Skater Punk Jon Sims, asexual aromantic-spectrum nonbinary author, but Jon is not only/always a man, easy to skip slight s4 spoilers, he likes kissing but only quick and closed mouth, tagged m/m for searchability's sake, this is just me projecting so much, this is me trying to be funny, we love a workplace romcom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29012991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherfandomok/pseuds/anotherfandomok
Summary: Tim brings his skateboard to work. Jon decides to prove a point. Things go hilariously wrong, and softness ensues. Could easily be read as s1 polycule supremacy, or just good old JonMartin with a side of canon typical pining idiots.
Relationships: (mentioned for the humor of it all), Could read as TimSasha but they're in a QPR in my head, Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Season 1 Archive Crew Polycule, how is that not a tag - Relationship
Comments: 7
Kudos: 54





	He Was a Skater Boy (Almost)

**Author's Note:**

> SEASON FOUR SPOILERS are contained within the paragraphs that begin with two asterisks **, so you can easily skip and avoid!  
> Disclaimer: I regrettably know nothing about skateboarding, and less regrettably know nothing about the British university system. Thanks to my roommate Zoe for this collaborative idea. This was so goofy and fun to write - I hope you enjoy!

Jon sighs, folding their glasses before carefully placing them next to his keyboard. He allows himself a brief moment of relief, rubbing his eyes and resting the weight of his head on his hands before pushing himself out of his desk chair and stepping primly to his office door. 

The clattering noises from the main area of the archives continue, and Jon braces himself as he grips the doorknob and turns it. He opens the door to look out at the assistants’ workspace and is greeted by the typical sight of three desks in various states of cleanliness and organization (Sasha to Tim, most to least respectively) and the rather atypical sight of Tim doing some sort of kick flip on a skateboard with a bi flag colored skate deck and several flashy stickers. 

Jon sighs, buttoning the first button of their cardigan and folding their arms, gripping their elbows with their hands. Sasha turns to him with a delighted grin, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. "Isn't it fantastic, Jon?" His mouth forms a straight line, teeth making a light click as he pauses to consider potential answers. His gut reaction is a firm no; Tim doesn’t need to have his ego inflated any more, and Jon knows they have a responsibility as the head archivist to uphold the rules on Elias’s behalf. 

Tim looks up wickedly. "'Allo, boss! Thought I'd switch it up a bit and throw a bone to my desperate admirers." The wink he throws Jon's way strengthens their resolve, and their arms fall to their sides. 

"Tim, it is extremely unprofessional to be skateboarding in the archives. I don't care what activities you partake in outside of work hours, but please don't scuff up our floors just to show off. Sasha, Martin, please don't feed into his delusional fantasies of grandeur. Let's all get to work, shall we?" Martin is halfway to his desk and Jon is turned a quarter of the way around as Tim's loud scoff reverberates through the basement room. 

"Jealous, are we, boss? Come now, there's no reason to deny our dear Sasha and Martin a bit of fun just because you know you'll never be as cool as I am! Don't hate, appreciate." He finishes sagely. 

Jon feels color rush to his face, and he grits his teeth. "Tim, this does not make you 'cool' - it simply makes you disrespectful for violating rules of work appropriateness. Besides, your comparison is invalid as I actually know how to skate." 

There's a moment of silence before Tim's joyous, howling laughter echoes in Jon's ears. Sasha looks confused but prepared for a good ribbing, and Martin is standing stock still halfway between the entrance to the room and his desk. Tim manages to get a hold of himself, gripping his ribs with one arm as the other hand leans most of his weight on his board. Jon's expression doesn't change, and after several seconds they once again cross their arms tightly to their chest. Tim straightens, opportunity lighting up his features as the wheels turn in his head. Sasha sees him calculating the best way to approach this new development, and she waits patiently. She is not disappointed. 

"Nahhh. I think I would know if my lovely yet tragically boring superior could do any activity that would even remotely introduce him to the concept of coolness. I fully don't believe you - nice try though! Your sensibilities are a bit *too* delicate to be hurtling along on a death trap. Isn't that right Martin?" Martin jumps slightly at his name, ripping his gaze from Jon's tense posture to Tim's open challenge, and Sasha's face is filled with mirth as she avoids a chuckle in favor of a smirk. 

Jon normally refuses to play along with these games, but this time he engages on the basis that he knows he has winning ammunition. A scowl curls his lips as he answers, "I'll have you know I was an avid skater in my uni days. I was quite good, actually. I doubt I've forgotten how to do a simple trick just because I've joined the corporate ladder." 

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "And I highly resent the assumption about my 'sensibilities,' _Tim_ ," he says, curling his fingers to make air quotes at the offending word. 

Tim looks dumbstruck for a split second before pulling himself together. The fact of the matter is that Jon is nowhere near the shape of his uni days. Their caffeine-ridden body would sooner betray them with a fainting spell or an outrageously nonsensical collapse than allow them to do any sort of skateboard trick. Sleep, after all, is quite important to any athletic endeavor, and sleep is not something that Jonathan Sims particularly excels in. 

He's fired up now, though, ready to prove a point and wipe the know-it-all look off of Tim's smug face. Martin is looking anxiously between Jon and Tim, cheeks tinged pink. He doesn't want Jon to hurt themself attempting to prove a point, but the thought of Jon skateboarding is not in any way helping his rather large crush. 

He hadn't thought of Jon having a different style at any point in their life before, but picturing them with hair to their waist and dressed like a punk is something that Martin certainly wasn't prepared to deal with as he headed to work that morning. What if he had piercings? Or, God help him, wore fishnets? 

Jon's slightly rumpled academic aesthetic is often hard enough to cope with, soft looking cardigans hanging off his shoulders and shiny shoes with slight heels clicking loudly as he paces behind his door continually throughout the day, distracting Martin from his followup research. Right now though, Martin can tell Jon is steaming and slightly defensive. His gaze flickers back to Tim, whose curiosity has won out over his own concern. 

"Well then, it seems we do have an opportunity on our hands, don't we? Now, I'm not sure I can quite picture your compact little self on a skateboard, let alone being 'avid' at anything other than studying or complaining enough to your professors that they gave you the best grades." He crosses to his desk and languidly falls into his chair, notching his ankles together as his feet come to rest on its surface. He leans his skateboard against its side and stretches his arms behind his head, shooting Sasha a winning smile before finishing, looking anywhere but at Jon. "Shame there's no way for you to prove it, _boss_." 

Sasha is choking back a grin, but Tim looks like the cat who ate the canary. He knows he's won when he hears an angry puff of air from the general area of Jon's office, followed by a trademark squeak of the Blackwood variety. Jon grits their teeth, stomps over to Tim's desk, knocks his feet back onto the floor, and spits out "Courtyard. _Now_." 

Tim quickly recovers his balance and jauntily rises to his feet, snatching his skateboard back up and following Jon to the stairs of the main building. Sasha follows, reveling in the comedy of the sight before her: Jon stomping up the staircase like a grumpy five year old, cardigan falling off of one shoulder and about half of his hair falling out of its tiny, slicked back ponytail, followed by Tim in all his high school jock cockiness and satisfaction, whistling slightly as he spins a wheel on his skateboard. Behind her, Martin wrings his hands for several seconds before scurrying to grab the archive's first aid kit. Just in case. 

-

Sasha positions herself in the corner of the concrete square, perched carefully atop a picnic table with her phone firmly in landscape mode and ready to capture whatever variety of disaster is about to occur. The smoke coiling out of Jon's ears is practically visible, and she makes sure to get a clear shot of his firmly set eyes before he turns jerkily to Tim. 

Tim, for his part, has his own phone held lightly in his hand, portrait mode style, filming as he switches in and out of his texts and various social media apps. If he has his way (which he almost always does), the entire archive staff will know about the end product of this exploit. He dangles his board off the fingertips of his other hand, and Jon takes it forcefully. The smile playing across Tim's face says his stakes in this romp are much more casual (and for the bit) than Jon's serious concentration. 

Martin breaks in worriedly, "Shouldn't you be using knee pads or something? At least a helmet! This is all concrete…" 

Tim cuts in with a laugh, "Come on Martin, our big bad archivist knows what they’re doing! I'd offer to share my helmet, but I don't know if it would fit his big head." His characteristic smirk is thriving in such an accepting atmosphere. For Martin's benefit, he adds "Besides, I doubt they'll get going enough to seriously hurt themself." 

Jon waves a hand at the two of them in a mix of annoyance and assurance. "Don't bother. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I've had my share of scraped hands and knees anyway - I'll be fine. Now hush and let me concentrate." There are several moments of silence before

_He was a boy, she was a girl, can I make it any more obvious?_

Blasts across the urbanized space. Jon's glare could melt steel. "Tim! Cut that off." 

"Right away boss, of course. Wouldn't want to break your oh so important concentration!" He turns the volume down exactly three clicks, but leaves the song on. Jon sets his teeth even harder, if such a thing is possible. "Get on with it!" Tim jeers as Jon plants one foot on the board. 

He wobbles, cursing under his breath as the wheels start to slide away. His arms instantly stretch out to keep his balance, and he steadies himself after a moment, taking a deep breath. Anger will not help his case. Ignore Tim. He waves away Martin's expression of concern, focusing more intently on Tim's board. 

He trips again before he can push off. "For God's sake Tim, be _quiet_! It's only natural to need a single moment to regain the hang of it after years out of practice. Let me just get my footing, and then we'll be…” he trails off. “-there!" He triumphantly finishes as Tim's laughter turns into loud cheering. Both feet now firmly on the board, Jon glides forward, skirt swishing around their ankles. 

He breaks into a grin as Martin peeks through his fingertips from the other side of the courtyard. After a few more hesitant stops and starts, he’s circling the space with relative ease. 

Martin stares as the loose strands of Jon’s hair wave in the slight wind. He grips the first aid kit like a lifeline, swallowing nervously as Tim's whoops and the smooth and steady _clack_ of the skateboard's wheels fill his ears. 

Jon raises a victorious fist as they pass Tim's shaky camera - Tim's surprised exuberance is just as physically emotive as his cocky laughter, and his video is sure to be useless and incomprehensible. Luckily for everyone, Sasha keeps her sense and remains rooted in her corner with a steady hand. 

After several more minutes of this placid success, Tim expresses his satisfaction. "Alright boss, you have proven your point. You are now allowed one full day to gloat about your masterful skateboarding prowess as I, a humble yet gracious fool, accept my defeat. Sash, you ready to head back down?" Sasha gives him a look that says she doesn't think Jon is quite ready to be done yet, and she is right as usual. 

Jon stops and turns to face Tim, superiority giving way to determination and a small amount of confusion. "Don't patronize me Tim. I can do more than just roll around. Watch me do an ollie and then we can call it a morning." 

Tim, ever satisfied to spend time in non-basement air, not doing work, raises his eyebrows before joyfully granting this caveat. "The floor is yours, oh all powerful one." His mock bow means several seconds of his phone video are just concrete and the toe of his heeled left boot as he sweeps his arms dramatically to the side. 

Sk8r Boi loops back to the beginning. 

Martin is fingering the strap of the first aid kit. "I don't know if that's the best idea Jon… I mean- you've only been back into it for a few minutes, and I think maybe you should just leave it." His cheeks become exponentially redder, and he clears his throat nervously to preemptively prevent any stuttering as he continues. "It's just, we really aren't doing this as safely as we ought to be, and complicating things will only… well, complicate things." He trails off lamely. "I just don't want you to get hurt! I don't want to have to use this," he says, holding up the first aid kit demonstrably. 

Jon's eyes twinkle, but their brow is set. "Don't be silly Martin. Ollies are practically the simplest trick you can do. If I can't do this, I have no claim whatsoever to my old prowess. I have to prove that Tim is not the only one in this office with skater charm, and I can hardly do that if I only go in circles on a flat surface like a toddler." Jon is stubborn, and Martin sees that he won't win. 

"Fine, fine. Just, please be careful. Tim, you'd better feel bad for egging him on if this goes badly!" Tim's winning grin melts Martin's resolve slightly, and he returns to his previous position to bear witness to whatever is about to go down (be it Tim’s reputation or Jon’s body). Jon takes a deep breath before pushing off. After another circuit, they determinedly shift their weight, moving their feet quickly in a way that Martin finds much too confusing to follow. 

The next few seconds seem to happen in slow motion. It looks like it's going perfectly until somewhere around halfway through, when Jon's foot comes down too far back and sends the board flipping away to the side, knocking him heavily in the shin. A moment later Jon's face meets the concrete, hands too late to stop the impact. 

Jon’s vision fizzles for a few seconds, going black as the ground rushes up to meet them. He’s awake again before anyone can realize what happened, disoriented as he notices dimly that his nose is throbbing. He can’t believe he fucked up an ollie. Tim’s never going to let him hear the end of this. 

Speaking of Tim, Jon sees that he is also lying on the ground for some reason. Tim is choking on his laughter, and the indecision caught him between helping and losing his shit, hence his position rolling on the concrete, phone video now utterly useless and pointed at the sky, still filming.

**In an office at the top of the building, Elias has tears streaming down his face to match Tim’s. To an outside observer, it may look like he is crying from sadness, but in actuality this is the hardest he’s laughed in years. Papers rest on the desk in front of him that appear to be complicated legal documents. It is impossible to tell without closer examination if they are divorce papers or a prenup. 

**Peter looks up from his glass of 1843 Dom Perignon, a mix of concern and amusement on his face. “What is it, Elias? Your archive employees? What have they gotten into now?”

**Elias can’t stop his fit quite long enough to answer, but he manages to choke out “Look at them Peter, I can’t-” followed by a garbled and incomprehensible noise. He reaches for Peter’s face to show him, hand shaking uncontrollably. Peter is not amused, and his expression crumples into disgust.

**”So trivial. Are you sure they’ll be of use to you? They seem awfully dim…” He takes another sip of his wine, reaching across Elias’s desk for his hand. 

Sasha calls out to Jon “Jon? You alright? Are you with us?” Her voice is laced with concern, but Martin is already kneeling beside Jon, eyes slightly wet. He’s fumbling with the zipper of the first aid kit, and Jon can hear him sniffling. 

Confused, Jon attempts to wave him away and sit up. “Martin, don’t be ridiculous. I’m fine. It was just a little tumble. This doesn’t mean anything about my skating abilities, you two!” He attempts in Tim and Sasha’s direction. His message is slightly compromised by how shaky the finger he points is, and as he looks down he notices something red on his shirt. Is that blood? 

It is. He feels his nose leaking and brings a hand up to investigate. It comes away bloody, and he stifles an eye roll and a sigh of irritation. Of course their body betrays them at the slightest mistake. They feel like a foolish teenager again, facing the consequences of attempting to show off to their friends. They’ve had much worse though, so they focus on preserving their reputation.

“Anyone could trip up like that! It was just a tiny fall - Sasha, you’re on my side right?” Tim is still uselessly gasping for air while lying on his side, but Sasha chuckles slightly as she shakes her head. 

“No Jon, we all saw you. It’s okay! You shouldn’t feel bad that you couldn’t do it - after all, like you said it’s been years since you skated at all. I would still consider it a success if you hadn’t ruined your beautiful face.”

Jon is opening their mouth to retort when Martin cuts in. “Stop it, guys! Jon, you need to let me look at your nose. It’s bleeding an awful lot, and you could have a concussion! Did you black out again?”

Jon’s attention shifts to him. “I’m _fine_ Martin. I don’t need you to baby me, and I don’t want your pity! Head wounds bleed a lot, and I’m already feeling better.” They snatch a gauze pad out of Martin’s hand and begin to get unsteadily to their feet.

This quickly proves to be a bad plan, as the world once again begins to spin. Jon unconsciously grips Martin’s arm as he attempts to plant his feet. Martin’s other arm circles his shoulders, and Jon notices how warm he is for a split second before focusing very intently on keeping the ground from tilting in front of him. He leans forward, allowing his nose to drip into the gauze pad. 

Martin’s cheeks are redder than ever. “Sorry, s-sorry, Jon! I didn’t mean to - a-are you alright? Do-do you want to sit, or we can give the stairs a go… well, better not try the stairs… Um, Sasha, could you call the elevator?”

Sasha salutes, dutifully tucking her phone into the pocket of her sweater. Unlike Tim, she is able to recognize when comedy hour is over. He is just as unsteadily getting to his feet, and he stumbles to retrieve his skateboard, which has rolled to a stop in the far corner of the courtyard. They retreat, and Jon is vaguely aware that in a monumentally short amount of time Tim will give the office rumor mill the juiciest story they’ve had in weeks. 

Jon feels quite warm. Is that a sign of a concussion? He couldn’t possibly have a concussion; he just banged his nose up a bit. It at least took the fall for the rest of his face - he’s relieved his glasses didn’t break, and they miraculously don’t have any blood on them. 

Somehow they make it down to the break room. Martin keeps apologizing whenever he has to touch Jon, and he is very flustered. Sasha has put on a kettle for tea. Tim has almost pulled it together, but his hands are still shaking with fits of laughter that render him useless for any kind of first aid.

Martin helps Jon get situated sitting on top of the table, and Jon withdraws into themself. When they pull their hand away from where it was still resting on Martin’s arm, there are bloody fingerprints left on Martin’s sleeve. “Oh… I’m sorry Martin, I didn’t mean to- I can get that cleaned for you, I mean, I can pay for it since it’s my fault. Stupid of me, really, to not pay attention to my hands, assume there would be blood…”

Martin looks down. “Oh! Don’t- ahem, don’t worry about it, Jon. It’s alright. Just a bit of blood, nothing that can’t be dealt with.” He rolls his sleeves up to hide the offending stain, and Jon stares at his forearms for a few seconds before blinking back into focus. 

“Alright Tim, you’re absolutely no help.” Sasha calls lovingly from the other side of the room as she pours four cups of tea. “Come watch the YouTube numbers climb on ‘Boss’s Bad Bitch Bragging Backfires.’”

Tim obliges, rising from his own chair before dropping a light kiss on the top of Jon’s head. “Sorry, boss,” he says sheepishly. “Didn’t mean to go so far with it. Feel better! You take good care of them, Martin,” he shoots him a wink as he takes Sasha’s hand jauntily and retreats to the assistants’ main space. 

The breakroom is silent for what feels like years, but is probably seconds. Martin digs through the first aid kit, and Jon stares at the ceiling determinedly, still pressing the now soaked gauze pad to their nose. At Martin’s gentle urging, he snaps out of his daze and hands it over to be thrown away. 

Martin babbles as he cleans the blood off of Jon’s nose and face, glasses carefully and gently set aside. Jon watches him as he works but doesn’t really hear anything Martin is saying. He can’t stop thinking about how warm and soft Martin’s hands are, and he doesn’t know if his hyperfocus is because of his ADHD or if he really does have a concussion after all. 

Jon doesn’t notice when he closes his eyes, but Martin does. First, he sighs silently with relief. Jon’s close attention had been making him extremely nervous. Then he realizes he should probably make Jon keep their eyes open in case their injury is more serious than they think. 

“Jon, you have to keep your eyes open. Do you have a headache? We can still take you to A&E…” he trails off, focusing more closely on the antiseptic in his hand as Jon opens his eyes. They are a deep, earthy brown (God, how easily they could swallow him whole), and it feels like they’re looking into Martin’s soul as Jon blinks several times in the harsh fluorescent lighting.

Jon’s voice is much softer when he replies. “No, I think I’ll be quite fine. ...thank you, Martin, for uh, taking care of… this.” He gestures vaguely to his nose, his other hand grasping the edge of the table. He continues, “You didn’t have to, and I’m sorry again about your shirt. I’ve made quite a fool of myself today.”

“Oh my gosh Jon, no! I told you not to worry about my shirt, and, well… I actually think it was really cool, uh, I mean, that you can skateboard! I’d never have the balance for something like that, and-” he breaks off at Jon’s chuckle, cheeks reddening.

“Well, I didn’t really have the balance for it myself today, did I?” This startles a laugh out of Martin, and Jon stares as a grin splits his face. In an attempt to keep that smile on Martin’s face, Jon continues “Guess I’ll never be as cool as Tim after all,” mock disappointment saturating their voice. 

The pout on their face is incredibly endearing, and Martin realizes his hand is on Jon’s arm. His hand has been on Jon’s arm for almost a minute, actually, and Jon hasn’t reacted or done anything about it. He hastily removes it. 

“Well, I like you, cooler than Tim or not,” his mouth says without his permission. He immediately clamps his hand over it. Jon’s eyes widen, and Martin curses inwardly. What a stupid way to reveal his crush. He shouldn’t even be surprised at this point about how often his mouth betrays him. 

“Oh, uh...” Jon says carefully, avoiding his eyes in favor of picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of his cardigan. “I like you as well, Martin.” His tone is solemn, and he licks his lips nervously. “And I, ah, appreciate your assistance after how much I’ve embarrassed myself.” He ducks his head, flustered.

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” Martin replies, still internally kicking himself. That was a near miss. He thanks whatever god there is that Jon didn’t pick up on the fact that there was a little too much truth in his statement. He is so lucky that the word ‘like’ applies to friends.

“I, ah, have been told that my stubbornness will be my downfall,” Jon says, clearing their throat. Under their breath, they add “Leave it to me to do it in front of someone I actually care about impressing.” 

Martin swallows nervously. He definitely did not hear that right. His brain is making things up. He busies himself with throwing away the used medical supplies and zipping the first aid kit back up. When he turns back towards the table after placing it back in its designated cabinet, Jon hasn’t moved.

“Are you feeling okay to walk? Do you want me to get your cane from your office? If you’re dizzy I can help you get to the couch to lie down…” Jon startles up, looking as if they hadn’t been present in the real world at all. 

“Oh…” he replies cautiously. “I’m rather satisfied to just sit here… with you, if that’s alright? Would you just… stay with me for a bit?” His cheeks are warm and he’s begun picking at a hangnail. He hastily adds, “Just in case I do have a concussion…” trailing off out of embarrassment when he realizes how desperate he sounds. _Great_ , he thinks, _now I sound like a lovestruck idiot who lies through made up excuses to spend time with him_. 

Martin flushes. “O-of course. I wouldn’t mind that a bit, as long as you’re sure…” He pulls a chair out from the table and sits in front of Jon. Their knees are almost touching. There’s the slightest smile on Jon’s face, and they look practically angelic to Martin. 

Jon is absentmindedly tapping a light rhythm on the back of Martin’s hand. Martin kind of can’t breathe. He smooths a few wrinkles out of his slacks. He plucks up all his courage and opens his mouth once again. 

“Can I… can I kiss you, Jon?” Martin fumbles the words out of his mouth, closing his eyes as if to brace for impact. Jon’s mouth drops slightly open in surprise. 

“Y-yes, you may Martin. I think I’d quite like that.” Martin opens his eyes to Jon’s shy yet entrancing smile. He moves carefully forward and closes the distance between them. Jon’s eyes flutter closed, hands falling onto his shoulders. 

Martin presses his lips softly against Jon’s, closed mouth. His hands are gently cupping the sides of Jon’s face, but he is careful to avoid his nose. He feels Jon’s smile against his mouth, which has done something right for the first time since he began working as an archival assistant. 

Martin’s mouth is as warm as his hands, and his shoulders feel firm and steady. Jon dreamily wonders why they didn’t attempt a skateboard trick in front of Martin sooner. He smells of bergamot and honey, but when Jon buries their face in his shoulder his sweater has a faint cedar smell. 

They shift into a hug after only a few seconds, which is what Jon is most comfortable with. Hugging Martin feels so safe, and Jon again marvels that they didn’t allow themself this until now. Martin’s cheek rests lightly on top of their head, and Jon breathes deeply.

“That was lovely,” Jon ventures, pulling back to look at Martin. He hums, smiling in a way that feels very all consuming to Jon. 

-

Martin and Jon emerge from the breakroom to varying greetings from Sasha and Tim.

“Your video is at 30,000 views, Jon!” Sasha crows from her desk chair, spinning around and kicking her foot into Tim’s shin.

He adds in kind, “See, boss? No harm done, and you’ll be famous for your trouble.” His gaze falls to Martin and Jon’s joined hands, and his face lights up even more. “Well force me to follow the dress code and call me Elias! So the lovebirds finally got it together, eh? I knew it. Didn’t I say this would do it, Sasha? I said, ‘If we get Jon to skateboard, he and Martin will HAVE to confess that they’re in silly love with each other!’ You owe me five quid!” His overly dramatic performance pulls a chuckle from deep in Martin’s throat, as embarrassed as he is. 

Jon rolls his eyes but squeezes Martin’s hand. He turns to him and says, “Wonderful. Now he’ll be even _more_ insufferable.” Martin laughs, and Sasha coughs forcefully. When their attention falls back on her, her eyebrows are nearly hidden by her bangs. She dutifully hands Tim his reward, and he bounds up and crushes the two of them in a hug. 

Separating them, he picks Jon up to twirl them around. At the last second he resists tapping their nose, settling instead for a pat on the head. “Alright boss? You’re quite welcome!”

“And to think this all started because our darling, adored Martin disclosed a certain type to us,” Tim continues in a self indulgently teasing tone, wiggling his fingers for emphasis. “That’s right, everyone! Martin K Blackwood has a thing for skater boys.” He winks appropriately, and Martin goes crimson. 

“Or boy-adjacent people who are skaters,” Sasha helpfully supplies. 

Martin makes a strangled noise as Tim wraps an arm around his shoulders. Jon chokes back their laughter.

Sasha grins, relishing the moment before putting an end to the torture. "Alright Tim, let him be. Sure, his crush is mortifying, but look! Your little scheme worked!" 

She turns her attention to Jon and Martin, voice a mix between sincerity and faux shock, "We're just glad you two _finally_ got it together." She's laughing mirthfully now, and Jon can't help their own grin. 

Tim jumps in. "What a morning! Time sure flies when we're having fun - and injuring ourselves," he adds with a wry grin for Jon's benefit. 

Sasha replies swiftly, "Tim, it's literally been twenty minutes. It's not even nine am yet."

-

The rest of the day Jon has a not insignificant difficulty concentrating. They keep thinking about Martin: his warm skin, his soft sweater, his kind voice, his twinkling eyes, his firm hands, his… Snapping out of it is difficult. It doesn't help that there are now an assortment of half full cups of tea covering his desk. Martin keeps dropping by every hour or so to stand nervously in the doorway and smile. It makes Jon's heart do funny little jumps and skips. 

They're still slightly embarrassed by their skateboarding fail (and flustered from the fact that they now know what it’s like to kiss Martin Blackwood), but they diligently attempt to file paperwork and sort through disastrous piles of who-knows-what. If a few statements get sorted by the giver’s name rather than the actual subject, well, they can fix that later. 

Around lunch time, Sasha comes to join Jon in his office. As she settles in a chair, she grins cheekily, popping the lid off of her tupperware. 

"You must know, I'm horrifically sad to see an aro comrade down," she mocks, jovial eyes belying her faux serious tone. 

Jon allows themself a chuckle before answering. "I know, I know. Truly tragic, I must admit. Must we have our battlefield goodbye so soon?" Cue a dramatically placed wrist against the forward as they swoon backward in their chair.

A grin splits Sasha's face. "I think that makes me a widow. So young…" she tuts, pouting. 

“And forced to work,” Jon continues. “What will the townsfolk say?”

“She better find a new husband!” Sasha crows, completing the charade with a surprising flourish given her position as the only non-theatre kid member of the archival staff. They both collapse into infectious laughter, food momentarily abandoned.

Sasha reaches out and takes Jon’s hand on top of a stack of statements about some haunted church out in the middle of nowhere. Jon’s smile reaches their eyes. Sasha’s hand is soft, but in a different way than Martin’s. She very clearly takes care of her skin, and Jon admires her rounded and polished nails, unpainted in contrast to their own with chipped black polish. Jon likes holding Sasha’s hand, they decide. It fits well with comforting, private moments of vulnerability.

This contrasts with the appeal of holding Tim’s hand, which is always about the drama of it all. Tim is quick to snatch Jon’s hand whenever they pass a bigot or a preacher, sometimes sealing the deal with a proposal scene right out of a Jane Austen novel. Jon’s ability to cry on command comes _enormously_ in handy for this sustained charade. Tim is always moving, which means holding hands with him entails constant, rather violent arm swinging as he weaves around obstacles in a way that is somehow simultaneously smooth and jerky. 

But now, in the quiet of his office, Jon feels soothed and incredibly lucky to have such meaningful people in his life. He and Sasha have thoroughly hashed out what they think romantic attraction feels like (and Jon is pretty sure that’s what he feels about Martin, consensus reached and established). Sasha is the one who helped him realize what sexual attraction _actually_ felt like - that was a shocking afternoon (for Martin as well, whom Jon immediately rushed to tell and subsequently commiserate with), and Jon was very happy to learn for certain that he did not experience it. He supports Sasha fully (and vice versa), but he wants absolutely no part in whatever nonsense allosexual people feel or do. She and Tim seem perfectly content with their arrangement, and that is enough for him.

The two of them sit comfortably in silence for a few moments before Sasha broaches the subject seriously. “I’m so happy for you Jon. It was honestly starting to get painful watching you and Martin doing nothing but pine,” she says sympathetically. 

Jon cringes, but smiles sheepishly. “I still wouldn’t have done anything, maybe not even if I had landed that ollie” he admits. 

“Martin, ever the sensible, proactive one,” Sasha says genuinely.

“He asked if he could kiss me,” Jon blurts against their better instincts. They have the look of a starry eyed fool on their face, so Sasha indulges them.

-

The remainder of the afternoon passes without incident, and Jon is bundled in his cardigan to leave on time (for once). He promised Martin that he wouldn’t work all night, and they agreed to an official date in two days, on Friday. Jon’s stomach was fluttery during the whole conversation, which was not helped by Martin gently stroking his thumb on the back of Jon’s hand and looking him earnestly in the eyes. 

Jon is still smiling as he exits the building and begins walking towards the bus stop at the end of the street. Before he can get very far, an inquisitive meow? stops him in his tracks. 

“Sauerkraut?” he calls out, turning and searching the nearby bushes. Catching a glimpse of a striped brown tail, he crouches and puts out his hand to the institute’s resident outdoor cat. Her fur is soft, and Jon excitedly regales her with the tale of his day in a low murmur as she purrs contentedly. He omits the more embarrassing aspects of the crash, but Sauerkraut is not one to betray secrets.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading! Comments give me life xoxo  
> PSA: I know this isn’t how injuries in workplaces are treated. You have to wear gloves and keep from touching bodily fluids, etc, etc. But it’s about the PINING. The YEARNING. It’s about the Hands. Let me be.  
> Also, Jon’s hair in this confused the FUCK out of me - I owe my life to all the TMA artists who divide their art and styles of him by season, because in my brain he is just always long haired even though I love short haired Jon. I literally had to rewrite at least three mentions of his hair to make sure that it was consistent throughout this fic skdhsdlkvn.  
> Also yes Sasha cut the video right after Jon fell - she isn’t gonna put their yearning on blast for the entire internet lol.
> 
> Basic idea/outline planned collaboratively with my roommate Zoe lol  
> Jon & Sasha aroacespec BFFs idea from coulson_is_an_avenger  
> Jon & Tim acting gay to piss off homophobes idea from A Beginner's Guide to Resolving Romantic Tension in the Workplace by CirrusGrey


End file.
